🔞 Booleanfull / Hiemal θ∆

Digital sketch of cryptid Hiemal with a belly, belly nips and jockstrap lying down giving the viewer bedroom eyes

I'm the guy from Tangled whose nose gets drawn progressively more inaccurate on his Wanted posters but instead my fabricated cryptid sighting photos depict me increasingly more titillating and provocative 🙄💦

#Hiemal art by @hungryhydrangea.bsky.social 🧡

Cryptid Hiemal sitting on the ground as shiny latex/goop surrounds him, preparing to encase him. His thighs and crotch are already covered and he now sports a large nullge which he's looking at with surprise and...intrigue??

How little time will it take for him to give in to the tantalizing sensations?

#Hiemal art by @dascarl.bsky.social 🖤

"Ill met by Moonlight"

Stunning #Hiemal artwork by Witwer on FA 🧡

Digital lined pin-up artwork of cryptid Hiemal

💀💭🍖

#Hiemal artwork by @thepandobo.bsky.social 💖

Digital soft shaded drawing of a fat cryptid Hiemal laying on top of sheets, dakimakura-style, presenting his soft fat body to the viewer

The cryptid doesn't show himself often, and doesn't like being vulnerable to others, but he shows himself to you like this... What would you do? 😳

#Hiemal art by @catarsi.bsky.social 🧡

Digital colored sketch of a fat cryptid Hiemal admiring his heft with a weary expression

The big cryptid in the flesh 💀🧡

Wonderful #Hiemal art by @eskaria.bsky.social

Also

-CEO investing hundreds of millions in AI-powered military tech
-rampant AI content
-"perfect fit content" program, where spotify buys generic bulk-produced music for a one-time fee to push actual music away, reducing per-listen-payouts.
-no king gizzard

awoooo

Digital shaded colored art of cryptid Hiemal viewed from behind, big buttcheeks facing the viewer while Hiemal is on all fours pressing down on his belly with prey squirming inside while he looks back at the viewer, tauntingly.

Hiemal's indulgence in the hunt doesn't stop after the prey is secured in his ravenous gut... Nor does it stop after they've become nothing but fat on his waistline.~

#Hiemal art by @scottred.bsky.social

Digital rough sketch of cryptid Hiemal swallowing prey whole, throat bulging outward significantly while drool drips off Hiemal's satisfied jaws

...and the last bit of resistance the creature feels from its prey 🧡

#Hiemal art by @karvivore.bsky.social

Greyscale lineart of cryptid Hiemal's open maw staring down at the viewer. The deeper part is lined with flesh and webbing while the outer parts near his fangs and teeth is as bare as his skull face.

The last thing many a people see when they encounter the hungry creature...

#Hiemal art by @swampjaws.bsky.social

Marker colored sketch of cryptid Hiemal standing in a dark forest, sporting a more muscled physique, longer arms, longer tongue, sharper teeth.

Even former human beasts are not immune to were-curses 🌕😈

Wonderful #Hiemal interpretation by @Rubydragon03.bsky.social 🧡

A happy cryptid Hiemal flops onto a red carpet, a detached set of hands preparing to roll it over

A stunned cryptid Hiemal's head, bunched-up mane fur and feet poke out from either side of the tightly rolled carpet

⚠️How to handle a cryptid⚠️

Step 1. Roll cryptid like burrito
Step 2. ???

#Hiemal art by @poweredbygif.bsky.social lol 🧡

love is stored in the throatpouch

Colored headshot lined sketch of cryptid Hiemal

Starting with this headshot of #Hiemal I've been using as profile pic for a while now, by the wonderful @nataliedecorsair.bsky.social 🧡

I slacked hard on posting comms again, but these artists' works deserve to be highlighted and I need to push myself into action

So, spread the word, tell your friends and family, october is Hiemaltober... 💀✨

A hand-drawn black-and-white cover image in a sketchy ink style. At the top, large stenciled type reads: “LOOK INTO MY EYES ONE LAST TIME.” Below the title is a syringe and a small medicine vial labeled “LUPINEX – Therionyl – 5mL,” with a stylized eye logo on the label. The vial and syringe are crosshatched with vintage texture lines. Below the drawing, in handwritten script, is the phrase: “Homecoming, not vanishing” and the signature Shimi & Critter.

[Art on Page] A detailed graphite drawing of a wolf’s eyes. One, the left is more formed than the right — indicating a near but not complete transition. The fur around them is dense and wispy, rendered in fine pencil lines that suggest softness and depth. The eyes are highly realistic and expressive, staring directly outward with intense, soulful focus. They seem alert but ancient—wide with instinct, watching as if waiting for something to begin. The drawing fades at the edges into blank white space, giving the eyes a floating, disembodied presence. Look into my eyes one last time Look into my eyes. Hold them close until you can see the last scrap of me — the part that counts thoughts in lists, that weighs choices against rules, that folds shame into tidy, human-shaped pockets. Watch it loosen. Watch the corners of doubt unhook themselves like small animals from a net and dart away. There is no melodrama here, no violent yanking; it slips. The human mind peels like old bark, and underneath, the thing that always was settles warm and terrible and simple. They give me the last injection in a room that smells faintly of cedar and lemon. No needles, no cold clinical lecture — only the careful hands of doctors, veterinarians and nurses who know which bones to cradle and which stories to leave untold. I breathe. I lost the ability to count days back. I let the bracing liquid be a gate, not an instruction manual. I do not want to name it; names are the thin net that caught me for years. The burn is a rumour. It goes through me sideways — a quiet rearrangement, like a convent bell that signals not death but a calling. My limbs answer first. They stop thinking of movement and begin to remember it: how to fold, to coil, to push.

Tendons unlearn the polite phrasing of two-legged steps and curve toward the old, fourfold geometry of running. My hands tighten and flatten; the knuckles find a new logic. Fur prickles along my forearms as if a thousand small moths take flight together and settle again. Each hair is a note in a chord I’ve felt… no… known in my bones since childhood. Look again. See how the pupils widen, how the whites retreat like a shy moon. My last maps of metaphor — the maps that turned hunger into lists and longing into projects — dissolve. Where there had been a ledger of self, there is now only the immediate ledger of scent and sound and the earth’s exact tilt beneath my weight. I do not mourn the maps. I never used them as well as the human world predicted and as I pretended. Sound changes. Those little, trivial noises of the room condense into a chorus: the slow tick of breath in the person beside me, the whisper of fabric, the distant wet confluence of gutters. And underneath that: a low, patient life-frequency — root and soil and river. It is not music so much as an acknowledgment. I find I can hear the insect conversation inside the walls, the sap walking up the birch, the small, stupid heartbeat of a mouse two blocks away. There is an intimacy to it that is almost rude. Breath becomes work and worship at once. My ribcage narrows, then widens in ways I know but cannot name. Milk memories — a thing to shame into silence when human — rise like a tide: the cadence of suckling, the doctrinal simplicity of being called to feed and to protect. A swelling around my belly that is not fat but purpose. I think of my children who never were, of the packs I have loved in mute pieces. The notion of motherhood is larger than gender; it is a compass with teeth. My children! You are my children and you are my all!

My jaw shifts. I feel the slow, inevitable rearrangement — a socket loosens, a hinge finds its voice. A tooth erupts where an organised thought had lived. The smell of iron, rain-damp soil, and sleeping bodies that have waited for me — flooding my mouth like saliva. Tears come and I do not know if they are human or creature; they taste of salt and release. There is a tenderness in my own trembling that I have never allowed before. Outside the window, someone whose scent I knew laughs and it sounds to me like a distant bell. The handlers murmur: careful, gentle, let her and her pack decide. My mouth forms the shape and bark of guttural assent I could not voice when I was wholly human. Somewhere a crate opens as if the world is taking a breath with me. They will test me further, yes. They will see whether my newness walks toward the wild or clings to the small, safe hands of fosterers who will teach me boundaries, how to pass in a world of paved things. I do not fear them. I am no longer wrapped in that ledger — of consent, of cost, of consequence. I am wrapped in appetite and mercy. The choice, if there is one, feels less like an argument and more like a direction: toward den or home, toward the kill lovingly taken or the bowl lovingly given. Look once more. There is no human drama in my eyes now — only depth, like a riverbed where stones remember every footstep. The last scrap of thought, the tiny librarian of my life who loved lists, things and order, exhales and steps back through the doorway we are leaving open. I feel it go, and where it is gone there is fullness, a pulse that answers the creature’s call without translation. This is not a loss. It is not my obliteration. It is the solving of a long, clenched equation. I am not lessened. I am finally the shape I have been learning. Look into my eyes, one last time. I am awakening. — Shimi & Critter @shimi.bsky.social

New zine: “Look Into My Eyes One Last Time”

A final love letter to the self I shed
A prayer for the creature. Becoming
A reckoning, a surrender. Homecoming

This is my deepest wish laid bare—needle, fur, breath, & mercy. Being held with a care I never found.

#AnimalHRT #Therianthropy #ShortStory

I slacked hard on posting comms again, but these artists' works deserve to be highlighted and I need to push myself into action

So, spread the word, tell your friends and family, october is Hiemaltober... 💀✨

as a fan of noncon, dubcon and under/non-negotiated cnc this is honestly one of the most straightforward explanations of this i've ever read?

I dunno what to do with the flames either in the typh oc I wanna design 😔 It is such a flexible design point that you can get away with almost anything, but at the same time such a vocal part that you want it to tie the whole design together

accidentally running into a red lizard

Permanent TF is hot and really euphoric because no more human and all, while the idea of changing periodically is also good because it contrasts the differences even more and can feel really hedonistic if the subject leans into it 🥴

Some button-popping office action!

Comm for @serpentsaurus.bsky.social

Im not like, especially into transmasc characters, nor do I feel it'd be right for me to make such an oc, but I gotta shout out top scars. Peak design, no notes, they go hard. 🔥

💀✨
bsky.app/profile/bool...

A drawing of an anthro chubby and fluffy skullhead, who is lounging back comfortably at the Iron Cafe, specifically the one styled in Block Tales. His floof has a greyish blue hue, and he has tusks, horns, and antlers, giving him a boar cryptid sort of vibe. His button-up shirt is barely holding together thanks to his stuffed belly, as fur sticks out between the buttons. His suspenders stretch out towards his growing moobs and his belt unbuckled due to his hefty gut, gurgling loudly from the food he's finished. Yet he still munches on a chocolate bar, a paw rubbing at his proud gains, satisfied about clearing the food from the stand in the background. A mantled beast stares in the direction of the gluttonous skully, blushing as it can't help but stare...

Same as the first image, except without any gurgling sound effects!

A screenshot of said Roblox skully avatar from the previous images, showing off his outfit, floof and all! He even holds a chocolate bar in his maw.

it's good to indulge when you can... esp if there's a lot of food you can snatch!

stuffed alt for @booleanfull.bsky.social's comm. he's such a cutie -w-

A drawing of an anthro chubby and fluffy skullhead, who is lounging back comfortably at the Iron Cafe, specifically the one styled in Block Tales. His floof has a greyish blue hue, and he has tusks, horns, and antlers, giving him a boar cryptid sort of vibe. He dons a dotted button-up shirt, with suspenders and a belt holding up his pants to go slightly over his belly. The skully is sitting back on a big red couch, ears drooped back as he happily munches on a bar of chocolate! There's a food stand with various kinds of treats, and a mantled beast sits happily on another couch in the background.

A screenshot of said Roblox skully avatar from the previous image, showing off his outfit, floof and all! He even holds a chocolate bar in his maw.

it's always good to kick back with your favorite treats after your adventures <3

comm for @booleanfull.bsky.social!!! love drawing roblox guys :3

woodland creature
#furry #pooltoy

Dusknoir :3

Happy tiger sleepy tiger purr purr purr